


50 Shades of Fucking Up

by ChaseTheSun



Series: Soft [9]
Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaseTheSun/pseuds/ChaseTheSun
Summary: Wendy makes mistakes. Wendy meets Joy.
Relationships: Park Sooyoung | Joy/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Series: Soft [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/692988
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	50 Shades of Fucking Up

Wendy knows that she is prone to fucking up. Big, small, minor, catastrophic. She’s done it all. Sometimes, she thinks it might be easier if she measures her success by what she didn’t do wrong, rather than what she did right.

1 On the first day of university she misses her bus and waits an hour for the next one.

2 She reads her timetable wrong, because the colours are too bright, and ends up on the third floor rather than the second. (Though she doesn’t know it yet.)

3 She hasn’t touched her pencil case since last semester. When she finally does, none of her pens work.

4 Wendy asks the girl on her left. Who looks at her condescendingly over the rim of tortoiseshell glasses. ‘Who takes notes anymore?’ She answers, nails tapping at her Mac. (She doesn’t get a pen.)

5 She withdraws into herself a little. Because, wow, people these days. She doesn’t ask the girl on her right who she sees taking notes. With a pen.

6 She zones out facing the projected PowerPoint with the tutor’s words sailing in and out of her ears. She doesn’t pay the attention she should. (To the tutor or her surroundings.)

7 There’s a sudden, sharp pain, like someone has just stabbed her foot. When her brain finally catches up, she realizes that there’s probably a stiletto heel embedded in her foot. Who even wears stilettos to class. ‘The fuck!!’ The classes’ heads swivel to her in creepy unison. ‘Oh shit.’ The tutor glares. She wishes she gave better first impressions.

8 When the class goes back to doing their own thing, she side-eyes the girl on her right. The heel digs in a fraction harder.

9 ‘The fuck was that for?’ Wendy should really stop swearing like a sailor. Especially at strangers.

10 Her neighbour glares before removing her heel. And then stepping on Wendy’s foot. Again. With her sharp as fuck shoes. ‘You weren’t listening to me. Here.’ She drops a pen to Wendy’s lap and turns back to her notes.

‘Thanks.’ Wendy doesn’t ask for her name. (She really should.)

11 Twenty minutes in and three doodles of birds later, she finally takes in the details of the projected PowerPoint. _Introduction to Textiles_. Wait, what? She notices she’s in the wrong class and panics. She grabs her stuff and makes a break for it. (She forgets to return the pen.)

12 She finds her actual class, _The Economics of Music_. And lurks outside. Wendy decides it’s too awkward to go in now. She’ll email her tutor and ask for a recap, she says to herself, knowing that she won’t.

13 She decides to head to Starbucks.

14 She’s wedged in a corner with overpriced iced coffee and banana bread when she realizes the pen she’s doodling with is not hers. She checks the time. She has fifteen minutes before _Introduction to Textiles_ ends. She downs the coffee in one gulp and makes another break for it. (She ends up with a headache and it is NOT worth it.

15 Wendy is red. Wendy is sweaty. And there’s a slice of banana bread clamped between her teeth like she’s an anime school girl protagonist. She opens the door a fraction and when unfamiliar faces she’s only briefly seen through the window turn to face her, she closes it. Bloody _Economics of Music_. (She ends up in front of the right classroom. Except this time, she wants to be in front of the wrong one.)

16 Wendy is redder. Wendy is sweatier. Wendy has finally finished her banana bread. Wendy finds an empty class room and an inordinate amount of guilt. (It’s only a pen and she got stabbed by a shoe.)

17 She spends three days with the guilt that’s made its home in her stomach.

18 She’s at student headquarters where the lady looks at her like she’s a new species of bug when she asks for the number of a girl who’s name she doesn’t know, from a class she isn’t in. She finds that they don’t give out contact details of other students. (Which, while perfectly understandable and extremely reasonable, is inconvenient as hell.)

19 Wendy leaves with the unit email address, TXT1003. ‘Hey, Stilettos, you stepped on me and I didn’t like it. I need to return your pen.’ (It’s not until she’s sent it that she notices, “Sent to (206) recipients.” Shit. She’s that person. But, really? 206 people are taking _Introduction to Textiles.)_

20 When the replies come in, she thinks she should have worded her email… differently.

21 _I’ll step on you and you’ll definitely like it ;)_

22 _Will send feet pics for $$$_

23 _You have my pen. I’d like it back_. -Park202. She fist pumps a little too enthusiastically at her minor success and spills hot tea all over her lap. (Ouch.)

24 Wendy has this bad habit where she reads messages, replies in her head, and doesn’t actually reply.

25 She doesn’t check her student email more than once a week. Even though she really, really should. She has three new emails that she doesn’t know exists until it’s almost too late.

26 _Uni_ _Starbucks. Wednesday the 3rd. 12:30._ _Caramel Macchiato._ _Bring_ _. My. Pen._ The “or else” is implied. She also realizes she’s misplaced said pen. She checks in all the usual places: pockets, backpacks, beneath her desk. (She finds it wedged between the strings her guitar and wonders how it got there.)

27 The barista gives her a funny look when she places her order. But at least this time she doesn’t feel like a bug. She finds the darkest corner that’s vacant and tucks herself in. She didn’t get enough sleep last night and the ambiance gently lulls her to sleep. And then she’s being gently shaken awake. (Wendy knows what when her body wakes up, her mind takes a little longer. It’s like the engine of a very old, very shitty car - it takes a lot of revving before she’s going to get anywhere. She also tends to blurt things out. And that’s what she blames for what happens next. That and lack of caffeine. She should’ve gotten a coffee and not taken that nap.)

28 ‘Pretty.’

29 There’s a blush, a scowl, a hand reaching for a drink. A sip, a frown, a ‘You got my order wrong.’ Park202 takes another sip and sits down anyway, all neatly folded legs and ominously tented hands.

30 ‘I have your pen.’ Tentatively warm.

‘I expected you to.’ Frosty.

‘Ok.’ Colder.

‘Sure.’ Coldest

31 She produces the pen and sets it between them with a metallic clink. ‘Thanks for lend it to me. It uh… writes really well.’

‘Thank you for bringing it back.’ The girl sips at her cold beverage. ‘It was a birthday present from my best friend.’ She sighs sadly and looks down.

32 Well, now Wendy just feels like an ass. ‘I am so sorry for your loss.’

‘Dammit Joy, quit giving everyone the impression that I’m dead.’ The cat-footed barista slams down an iced chocolate in front of Wendy. ‘Here. For the midget.’

33 Wendy blinks up at the not-much-taller barista. ‘How’d you know what I like?’

She gets a deadpan look in return. ‘I’m a barista and you’re in here more than what’s healthy.’

‘Right.’

‘You’re going to need the sugar if you’re going to make it through this date. Joy is unnaturally attached to her stationery. She’s been breathing fire all week.’ The barista turns to walk away from their table.

34 It takes a few moments for Wendy to register her words. She twists her neck to yell at the barista’s retreating back. ‘It’s not a date!’

She turns back and the now-named Joy is glaring. ‘I mean it’s _not_! I wouldn’t mind if it was, but it’s not.

35 - 50 When Joy’s glare turns into a smirk, Wendy knows that she is absolutely fucked. (She doesn’t think she’ll mind much.)

  
  
  
  



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